Life of Wry

We came, we saw…now we hang. Decided to forgo the long haul over to Orlando (Epcot and Disney World) in favor of just being with the family. Good choice. Some shots on the day:

First off, here’s Martin’s new house. The sale closed in June, and, slowly, he’s been making the transition from a 33-year life in New York City to a less frenetic life in Florida, where winters are a bit less harsh. (A bit less harsh: winters in the 70s during the day, 60s at night, light breezes, humidity sufficient to bathe your skin in a nurturing, protective warmth… shorts and sandals!)

Setting up household is exactly what you’d expect…new furniture, supplies, paint, fixtures, rugs, towels, kitchen stuff … the whole nine yards.

Wellington is a town a bit west of Palm Beach, about an hour and fifteen minutes north of Miami (if you take the turnpike), and, according to Money Magazine, is one of the top 100 places to live in the country.

So there ya go.

We are getting to know the community a teeny bit, at least through its shopping centers.. doing a lot of this:

A lot of this:

(That is Teresa caramelizing onions for some French Onion soup.)

Doing a lot of this… (Elisa):

(Jim, Sr and Melanie):

Figaro:

A bit of time to check in and keep up:

Here’s how dinner turned out:

The soup was fantastic. I am so making this recipe (Julia Child’s w/ a little extra butter in the broth):

Chicken Marengo (which apparently goes back to Napoleon days, when somebody prepared a pre-battle chicken meal but ran out of butter and made the dish with olive oil, which he loved. He won the battle of Marengo and thereafter ate the dish before each subsequent battle. So the story goes.):

The evening was so pleasant. Relaxed, comfortable. Marty played a lot of classical piano and we ended the evening watching Laura (1944) with Gene Tierney, Clifton Webb, Dana Andrews, Vincent Price, directed by Otto Preminger. The movie was good. The post-movie dissertation Marty delivered, including the history of the movie/book/theater production,a trip through the lives of all of its stars, and tons of related and non-related facts from the era was the real treat. Really loved that.

Loved the whole down day.

Woke to a bright and sunny day with a smooth blue sky. A perfect morning to explore South Beach. Oh boy!

But first, a few shots of our hotel, because it was pretty sweet:

Right? Note the pastel umbrellas, which truly served a purpose.

Our deck:

The blue sky was a nice backdrop for the deco, I thought. Here are just a few I took this morning, here and there.

I particularly love this one…

This is a little tricked out, but I like it:

Here’s breakfast at a random beachfront-ish hotel. People watching was a trip. Some pretty outrageous outfits. Had a wonderful spinach and strawberry smoothie and spicy hash.

I like the Jim’s glow:

We took a walk on the beach, this time with Peter. Here’s another shot of their cool lifeguard stands:

Chaise lounges as far as the eye can see, set among the endless ribbon of hotels… miles and miles and miles. I had really wanted to see this part of Miami..

It always amazes me how people can camp out for a day on a chaise lounge. It sounds a lot better than it is in practice. After ten minutes I’d be done. Still…. it’s a thing.. people from all walks, from all corners of the globe… all shapes and sizes.

The boardwalk (stonewalk) that runs the length.. also beautiful.

We then hit the road.  We were off to meet a passel of Frames in Key Largo. Some shots en route:

I’m telling you: green. And water just everywhere. It’s enough to make a Californian cry.

We met up with Jim Sr, Elisa, Teresa, Marty and two friends of Marty’s (Victor’s sister Emmy and her daughter Alexis). Had lunch at a restaurant on Key Largo.

Then Emmy and Alexis split off and we explored the John Pennenkamp Coral Reef State Park.

Explored is an overstatement. We pulled into a parking lot, stood at water’s edge for about 20 minutes, then took off for Wellington! But it was nice to set foot upon another key, see a bit of island coastline and some local fauna. This is an American White Ibis.

And this is that passel of Frames!

I may like them better from this angle (and with a nicer camera). And yeah, that’s a cannon. Sure it’s got some historical import.

This may qualify as local fauna… boats hibernating:

I cannot get enough of these trees.

It took hours and hours to get to Wellington. Holiday traffic or an accident… not sure what. But it took forever. We arrived at Marty’s new place and had a great lasagne dinner, and that was that day–many miles, many palms, lots of waterways, expansive vistas of deep green grass and vegetation…

Florida.

Saw as much of Miami as a person could see in a day, perhaps.

Started like this:

Headed back down to Ocean…

Then a nice walk on the beach…

Took in some deco along the way…

Love this crosswalk …

Sat in a sidewalk cafe for a long breakfast, waiting on a son who never showed up (a combination of staying up until the wee hours watching old episodes of Seinfeld, and jet lag)…

(Jim looks like his brother here…)

We sat through successive bouts of rain. With each downpour, people would abandon the beach in waves. It was hilarious. They apparently wouldn’t take any time to re-clothe themselves (why bother?); just made hasty retreats!

It’s really something to behold, these tropical regions… sun, dark clouds, rain, sometimes all at once. It’s warm, humid, wet. But, I have to say, pleasant enough.. at least in November when the temperatures top out in the 70s or low 80s.

After a couple hours, we rounded up the kiddo and headed out on a driving tour of the environs. First, north along the island on A1A (Collins) through South Beach, North Beach, Bal Harbor… past beachfront hotel after beachfront hotel after beachfront hotel. Saw lots of ritzy houses and yachts on inner coastal waterways.

And lots of spectacular art deco:

Found our way to a place called the Oleta River State Park. Walked around for about an hour–along the water and through jungly paths…

Tested it for temp…it was warm…

Peter, freaked, sighted a big hairy spider… Jim, of course, checked it out..

Got this shot…

Turned out, it was a banana spider. This from Wikipedia:

In Florida and other southeastern states, the golden silk spider, or as we call them the banana spider, is the large orange and brown spider with the feathery tufts on its legs well know to most native southerners. It is particularly despised by hikers and hunters, as during late summer and fall the large golden webs of this species make a sticky trap for the unwary. The female is distinctively colored, and is among the largest orb-weaving spiders in the country. The female is 25 mm to 40 mm long and has conspicuous hair tufts on her long legs. Males are about 4 mm to 6 mm long, dark-brown, and are often found in the webs of females. These spiders feed primarily on flying insects, which they catch in webs that may be greater than a meter in diameter.

And Peter got the hell out of dodge…

The park also had lots of cool non-California-like vegetation.

Mangroves:

These:

And just lots of verdant greenery:

(With creepy crawlers most certainly contained within.) (Poor Peter.)

Then it was off to Little Havana for a late lunch.

We ate [not at that place above but] at Exquisito Restaurant on Calle Ocho for some traditional Cuban cuisine. Enjoyed the proprietor, who commented on all of our choices and reminded us of Chris Christie. Here is the fantastic (greasy, meaty, salty, crunchy) Cuban fried rice I got, with a side of sweet, caramelized fried plantains…

Domino Park is in the center of the action…

If you look closely, you’ll see some dapperly dressed gentlemen. Here is another guy I happened by:

After all the rain, the afternoon brought some shockingly blue skies and piercing sunlight. In this picture, the blue skies are behind me.

We took off in the late afternoon and drove south to Coconut Grove, one of Miami’s oldest neighborhoods. It’s a place I’d certainly heard of, but didn’t know anything about. What we saw of it was lovely.

Then drove up their Highway 1 to the bridge that takes you to Key Biscayne. Absolutely beautiful in that water, marina, yacht, skyline, mansion kind of way. We drove over the water and around an impressively opulent neighborhood. We were witness to a jaw dropping sunset. I have no interest in living in Florida, but for ten minutes, I did.

I had no power left in my camera for any of this, so no pics from me… but Peter got a couple nice ones, shot from the back seat:

Got back to South Beach and chilled for an hour or so, then decided to wander around looking for dessert. Ended up at a bakery for some great, fresh baked cookies. Took a couple of night pics… one of the hotel across the street…

And one of the night life on Ocean Drive…

All and all, it’s a pretty exciting place.

It was a day of travel, so no big stories to tell. And because it was travel, it was a day of hits and misses…

MISS: As in miss-communication on departure time. Janet was on track to be on time, but it was the wrong time she was on track to be. Or something like that. Jim called, she rushed over.. in green polka dot PJs. She drove us to the airport in those.

Maybe that was a hit, after all. No pictures, but it was pretty funny.

HIT: For mysterious airlines reasons, we were upgraded to First Class.  Unfortunately, it was only  the Sacramento to LAX portion of our travel day. But, hey: FIRST CLASS.

HIT: The view flying out of LAX was unusually stunning, mostly because we circumnavigated Palos Verdes, something I don’t get a chance to do often. I was on the wrong side of the plane for the really good views, but still managed this interesting one with Catalina in the background.

MISS: The flight from LAX to Miami was four uneventful hours that went by very quickly. Which was nice. But did you know that on a transcontinental flight they don’t serve meals anymore? Kind of ridiculous. The flight attendant even balked when I asked for a water refill. Said she, “They don’t give us enough water sometimes; I have to be careful that we don’t run out.”

Uh….

She did agree to another half glass. I’m serious. Water. They were rationing me.

HIT, I guess: By the time they came around a second time, she felt confident the supply would last, so she gave me two glasses. Two separate glasses. I am not kidding.

Air travel’s gotten really weird.

HIT: In the new experience category… we landed in Miami. The Miami airport is enormous. We heard more Spanish than English. I did not realize Spanish was that predominant.

HIT: What we lacked in flight features, we more than made up for in our rental car. We’d reserved a Toyota Corolla or similar and got this:

It took us several miles to figure out how to roll up the windows, and a few more to get the rest of our bearings, but it’s a fun car to drive around in. Plus: RED JEEP.

HIT: Arrived in the South Beach portion of Miami–about 8-9 miles from the airport. Immediately found ourselves in the heart of art-decosville. We pulled right up to the Chesterfield Hotel on Collins, in the heart of the historic art deco district, left our car with the valet, and entered the lobby. Whoa. Loud music thumping away, glitz in all directions. Hilarious.

The bell cap took us to our room–good thing, it was wendy and complicated. Threw our stuff down and headed out to explore… it was about 10:00 pm, east coast time, by the time we hit the streets.

HIT:  South Beach. We headed down Collins a bit…

…then meandered down to Ocean. We wandered through club after club after club, seeing as how the sidewalk passes through the open-to-the-street edge of all of them. The air was warm and humid, the music was loud, the fashion served the mating rituals of 20-somethings. Not mine, but what a scene! Glad to see it.  We’re told it’s just for tourists, that no locals hang out here. Still, nice to have a picture in my mind of that place where kids go on college breaks.

HIT: We were hungry (no food on transcontinental flights anymore, remember?). We found a restaurant on the corner of Collins and about 12th called the Naked Taco. It served up some Mexican cuisine with a Miami twist. We were told the chef (Ralph Pagano) has won some contests on cooking shows, maybe even has a show on a food network, perhaps. Whatever, we had good dishes:

Sangria

Key West Shrimp, toasted coconut, lime, sriracha aioli, on corn tortilla taco

Mango, chicken, avocado crema, cilantro taco

Chipotle BBQ brisket, crispy onion, jalepeno cilantro crema taco

Elote: grilled street corn, queso fresco and chipotle

Watermelon, tomato, pickled onion, lime, avocado, queso fresco salad

Pineapple lime grilled chicken w/ crispy plantain fries

Churros with chocolate sauce, dulce de leche, and a sweat cream sauce 

Here are the churros…

Ohmygoodness.

Welcome to Florida.

…. a bunch more to go.  But: ONE DOWN! 

College app, that is. Peter walked into my office a few minutes ago, ever so casually….

Him:     “Mom.”

Me:        “Yeah?”

Him:      “Applied to college.”

Me:         “Wow! You did it! Just NOW? Great! High Five!!”

Then lots of smiles and high fives. And maybe just a teeny tiny bit of whooping at a very high volume.

The first was a Cal State University… Cal Poly San Luis Obispo. Deadline is November 30. The UC app is also due November 30, and that’s a big deal for him, but he’s still got some details to wrap up for that one, and will likely finish it while we’re on the road… somewhere down in Florida.

After that comes a whole slew of others.. another one or two in California, some others on the west coast, some in the middle and some on the east side. Those deadlines are later and we’ll have to figure out how many really make sense to spend time and application fees on.

But at least he got one in! This process has loomed large for a long time.

As it all winds down, we shall see a huge reduction in our mail!

That bulging basket contains many hundreds of glossy brochures, postcards, and letters… from colleges and universities all over the country–the bane of high school juniors and seniors everywhere. As soon as you take a college entrance exam, like the SAT or ACT, you get inundated with solicitations. So. Many. Solicitations… a very small fraction of which ever gets opened. Just kept throwing them in the basket…

Crazy business this college thing.

Went on quite a lovely date tonight with my buddy Amy… a friend from way back in the new mom’s group days–wine and [fantastic] apps at Vini (I’m telling you… I’m really enjoying that place), then a dance performance at the Mondavi.

Totally girls’ night out stuff. Jim just would not have enjoyed any part of it… ‘cept maybe that bruschetta with the preserved lemons.

I don’t have a full dance review in me… just don’t have the words, and am too sleepy to find them, plus, while I’ve never attended a dance performance that I didn’t love, just because: dance, the show was something completely outside my realm of experience, and apparently, appreciation.

The  dance company was Akram Khan, and they performed kaash, “Hindu gods, black holes, Indian time cycles, tablas, creation and destruction,” with a focus on “physicality and precision.”

Sounds GREAT, but I didn’t pick up on any of that.

The movement was not beautiful to watch; the music wild, often rhythmic, but not entirely pleasing; there was no set to speak of; and there was a sameness to the whole performance–an uninterrupted hour–all of which just left me uninspired. I learned later there wasn’t even a story being told; it was soulful and powerful and largely coordinated, but also in-the-moment expression, different each time they do it.

But there were aspects that will stay with me, for better or for worse: 1) There were large portions of the performance done in silence… the only sound in the theatre was that of the occasional cough or rustle of programs, plus some stage thumping. It was a little disorienting, but interesting; 2) There was a moment, a very long moment, perhaps an entire minute, where the five dancers left the stage and the sound track was a loud, engine-like roar, which got louder and louder as the minute wore on. Very anxiety-provoking, but I won’t forget it; 3) Two of the five dancers joined the show’s director and a moderator for a post-performance Q&A which we stayed for. It was a very small audience, but it was intimate and extremely illuminating. After hearing details of the dancers’ experience of the show, I had a greater appreciation of what I’d just seen. Nice to make a connection between the art and the regular old humans that produced it. They’re young and fierce. What’s not to love about that?

Not sure I’ll rush out and attend another Akram Khan performance, but I learned a lot and was left with a far more favorable impression of the company and what goes into a show like that.

Actually, the most memorable part of the evening may be the moment when–comfortably ensconced at Vini, wine in hand, an array of appetizers spread before (only partially consumed as yet), talking casually about this and that–we realized it was 7:45, the show started at 8:00 and, according to a pre-show email sent to all ticket holders, there would be no late seatings. We were up shit creek and really didn’t have a prayer, but decided to go for it anyway. Amy ran to get the car–parked deep into the train station parking lot several blocks away–while I paid the bill. We then rushed through downtown avoiding an unusually large bunch of Thursday night revelers, got to the Mondavi and decided, for expedience, to park behind the under-construction museum. We RAN the entire way to the entrance, threw our tickets in the direction of outstretched ticket-taker hands, and were urgently directed to the correct door, whereupon ushers escorted us hurriedly to our seats. With seconds to spare, we made it!

Odd performance aside, nice evening.

Jim has undertaken a major project. After watching the file cabinets in his office multiply like rabbits, and the floor space disappear like Putah Creek under duckweed, he decided to purchase a high speed scanner and convert all of his paper files to digital.

The effort started about a month ago and has proceeded steadily, day in and day out, ever since. He has imposed a robotic method to the crazy madness of his office, filling every spare minute with the task.

It is a much needed undertaking. Jim is now up to four legal-sized, four-drawer file cabinets in his teeny tiny office and mobility has ground to a halt. Seriously, you cannot stand in place and do a 360 without knocking something over.

(I also have four cabinets in my office–well, four and a half–but my office is twice the size of his, and I am pathologically clutter-averse, so floor space is ample.)

If he allows it, I will back-fill a photo of the current state of Frame Surveying and Mapping headquarters. It is truly spectacular. (Not to be outdone by his garage, but let us not go there. Yet.) But I think even Jim is a little shy about revealing this aspect of his personality. Someone might be tempted to turn him into a reality show or something.

But hey, the guy’s got more important things to do than create order. That is the purview of his neurotic (and never judgmental (much)) wife. He can turn out projects like nobody’s business while sitting head-high in desk clutter. He is utterly unflapped by what seems like breathtaking chaos to me. But the thing is, nobody (well, hardly anybody) is more productive than Jim, especially when his sights are trained on a prioritized list. I’ve always admired his amazing GSD (get shit done) skills.

Like, for example, this project.  Cabinet by cabinet, drawer by drawer, folder by folder, he has gathered the multitude of pages contained in client and project files, removed countless staples and paper clips (really, countless) patted and patted them into perfect 8 1/2 x 11 alignment and set them in stacks upon the scanner, whereupon, sheet by sheet, the files are converted to digital PDFs, to be stored for eternity on his hard drives.

And probably never looked at again.

But ya never know.

At least now, he can have the files he needs just in case, but will no longer be suffocated by them.

And what of those millions of formerly important pieces of paper? Well, if the piece of paper in question was one-sided, it went, after scanning, into the scratch paper file. He’s been assembling those in sets of approximately 500 sheets, swaddling them in wrappers made of formerly important maps and stacking them on the chair outside his office, like this:

This is a but a fraction of the scratch paper haul. Jim estimates he has about 40 of these makeshift “reams.” Anybody need any scratch paper?

The vast majority of the sheets, however, were two-sided and have thus been recycled. The scanner’s ticker puts the total number of scanned sheets at 30,000+.  Crazy, huh?

And, as of this writing, Jim has gone through all sixteen drawers. Next he will condense what remains (some files had unscannables contained therein) into likely one cabinet–with a ton of room to spare–and repurpose/relocate/sell/giveaway the others. Yay!

Then, THEN, he can clean up his office… move stuff around on his new-found floor space, reclaim some space on his severely impacted desk… who knows, maybe even recycle or toss a whole buncha other stuff, too.

~ ~ ~ ~

One of the neat things about going sheet by sheet through 10-20-30-40-year old files, was coming across some treasures. Lots of treasures. Here’s one from yesterday:

This was the analysis we did in 1996–when in the throes of house hunting–of two hot prospects… the house we’re currently in v. the house we thought about buying over on 11th.

Check out those prices!

File this in the category: Things I didn’t know before…. 

Spent a very, very nice afternoon on the bay with my aunt, uncle and mom last Saturday. The bay is Alamitos Bay, part of the protected network of waterways and harbors inside the Long Beach breakwater.

First off, here’s the view from their porch:

Naples, Treasure Island, Belmont Shore.. are all off to the left of this photo; the Alamitos Bay Yacht Club to the right; and, across the water and visible here is the Boathouse, the restaurant we ate at a few weeks ago (oh yeah, and owned by Eric).

I LOVE hanging out at their house…have they lived here forty years?! I remember being so disappointed when they moved out of their other house which was so cool because it was three stories! And because the top floor was an octagon! And they lived on an island! And they had a great ping pong table and a boat and their own dock! I was a kid: their house seemed like a castle playground with its own moat. What can I say, I was bummed.

But they didn’t go far; you can actually see their old house from their new house. Bob and Eric were tiny tots, so they decided it was safer to be on the beach. And that actually turned out to be cool, too. Maybe cooler. Lots of beach parties, lots of swimming. We dragged lots of sand through the house. It was great.

Still is.

One place I’ve never spent much time in, is my uncle’s office. It is quite the sanctuary of memorabilia, books, and photos. This is where I learned, today, about short snorters. With the help of Wikipedia, this is what I now know:

A short snorter is a banknote inscribed by people traveling together on an aircraft. The tradition was started by Alaskan Bush flyers in the 1920s and spread through the military and commercial aviation. During World War II short snorters were signed by flight crews and conveyed good luck to soldiers crossing the Atlantic. Friends would take the local currency and sign each other’s bills creating a “keepsake of your buddy’s signatures”.

So, he’s got a long row of short snorters, displayed end to end, framed, that represent all the countries he flew over when he was in the war (WWII). And not just flew over, but piloted the plane over. It’s a lotta paper money–a note from each country.

I’d heard this other story before, but was again blown away by it: My uncle, just a week or so before his 16th birthday (1940) decided, because he knew how to fly a plane (seriously), to join the Air Force. He was welcomed right in and told to report to a base in Burma (I believe). It took him weeks and weeks to get there, a trip he made without any travel experience or money to speak of, just the goodwill of people along the way.

His trans-global journey is marked by a thick red line on a world map that hangs on the wall above the desk in his office. It goes from the US, to Central and South America, across the Atlantic, through Africa, through the Middle East and up into China.

He even took control of a plane for one leg of the journey, somewhere over the Atlantic, somewhere east of Ascension Island, and thus earned his first short snorter.

Can hardly fathom a 15-year-old even contemplating such a thing, much less carrying it out. Which he did. He went on to fly airplanes for the Air Force. Because he was underage (which they may or may not have been aware of initially), his duties were limited, but fly he did. Mostly he buzzed bridges to clear them of civilians, making way for the of-age guys to come in and do all the ugly work.

I’m sure I’m missing some details, but all I can say is, I hope memoirs will be written. Uncle Bud’s stories don’t stop there!

Anyway… we had a nice lunch:

Took a few pictures for posterity:

(Uncle Bud has his own way of soliciting smiles…beware that right hand around the areas of the ribs…)

We moved inside because it was actually chilly (probably in the lower 70s!). I’m a fan of their living room… I have to believe that in designing our own, I had theirs in mind: built-in white bookshelf stuffed with books, piano in the corner (theirs is a player piano), colorful art, ceiling beams, wood floor.

Our house is missing the bay view… but similar concept, no?

Anyway… we talked for another couple of hours. And here’s the second thing I learned that I’d never known: The Long Beach State mascot–Prospector Pete–is named after my grandpa…

Campus founded in 1949 (49ers, gold minors, prospectors…), grandpa founder, first president… thus Prospector Pete. You can actually buy one of these in the CSULB book store. May just have to get myself one!

Anyway, enjoyable afternoon.

Some parting shots:

Uncle Bud coming out the back door:

Typical neighborhood flora:

And a shot on the ocean side of the peninsula driving north toward downtown LB, the iconic oil rig islands just offshore:

I come by my fears honestly. One of my lifelong fears, bordering on paranoia, is of falling trees. Especially being in a house beneath one of those falling trees. Especially a eucalyptus, because they are so dense and heavy.

This is not unreasonable: I grew up in a dense eucalyptus jungle and wind storms were not infrequent. We had both winter wind storms and hot summer storms (you’ve heard of the hot Santa Ana’s that plague the southland?).  Winds during any season could be fierce. Trees that have fallen on houses and cars have done epic damage.

My mom’s house sits among some humongous eucalyptus trees. About a billion are on her property, give or take.

I’ll just say: wind storms are unsettling.

So last night, the wind blew mightily… not as hard as I’ve seen, but enough to make us plenty nervous. My mom’s house is very sound-tight, but we could hear tons of stuff falling on the roof.

Just as my weather app said it would, the wind settled down about 3:00am. Before I even got out of bed, I got an alert on my phone–because I subscribe to a service that tells you such things–that a tree had gone down on the 3600 block of Palos Verdes Drive North, very close to mom’s house–and was blocking the road. They expected it to be cleared by mid-morning.

It was time to assess the damage….

No trees down! Not even any big branches. Just lots and lots of bark and debris.

I’d happened to take a picture the day before–loving that early morning light to go with the sound of peacocks and mourning doves–which makes for a nice compare and contrast:

Here are a couple more.. this one looking back at the house:

And this one of the back patio—usually so immaculately swept and tidy:

I wrote in this blog post about the relationship the Peterson family has with the Osborne family–old friends from the way back.

Which made breakfast today a special event. It’s rare that we manage to get ourselves together, and, mobility what it is, more challenging by the day!

But with canes in tow, we made it down to Polly’s on the Pier for a lively breakfast. It’s a funky place, but the staff is great, the food’s diner-perfect, the sounds of gulls and pelicans make for a nice ambience, and today we could watch a storm hover just beyond the shoreline. Cozy!

Ina, Kari, Bev and Betsy:

Driving home along the Esplanade, got this nice shot: